Salvation
by CallmeMarvolo
Summary: In the end, losing her was the only way to save her.


"I love you"  
"You've said that before"  
"I'm serious. One of these days you're going to be my salvation. In some ways, I think you already are. I'm never letting you go"

He'd said it almost mockingly at first, because he really couldn't see himself _needing _anyone, let alone a girl. But now, he truly meant it. She would be his salvation. He would break if he had to live his life without her, she was part of him now. Nothing would change that.

'Leave her. Or I'll kill her'

It was a simple sentence. Its message clear, screaming two impossible situations. Either way, he was a coward, unworthy of her. He stood with his palms splayed on the wall in front of him, knuckles bloody and broken from punching the hard stone in a vain attempt to regain some of his self-control. Or at least enough control to breathe again. He couldn't make this decision. It was too easy, yet too hard. Either way, they both lost.

He couldn't leave her. He knew he would _survive_ without her, marry someone his damn father picked out for him. But he knew he would never really live without her. He knew he would never be able to love again. Not the way he loved her.

But. The alternative was unthinkable. It meant blackness. The end of everything. It meant killing her. He couldn't do that, even if it gave him an excuse to kill himself and end this torture. Even he wasn't that selfish, he knew that she could be happy again without him, she had friends, people who loved her. He could live with that. He could live knowing that she was happy, knowing she was alive. The only way to save her would be to leave her. She was his only chance of salvation, for her he could make a choice that would tear him clean in two. He stood up, pushing himself off the wall and walked towards their meeting place. He would say goodbye, make her forget him, make her hate him more than he hated himself. 

"I'm sorry" he whispered into the frigid air, forcing himself to look her full in the face, forcing himself to see his heartbreak reflected in her face. Sorry was all he could think to say. It was the only honest thing he had told her all night. She was silent, she hadn't opened her mouth once he'd started speaking, listing off all his pathetic reasons for tearing them apart. He reasoned that somehow her silence was worse than screaming at him, calling him everything he was, saying everything he was desperate to hear. He had told her that he couldn't see her anymore, his words cold and harsh. His mask of indifference falling into place, effectively hiding his true emotions from the only person who had ever seen through his thin veil, all the while selfishly hoping she would see through it again, and know that he didn't mean any of it. He had watched her eyes glaze over with unshed tears, her pain unbearable. He couldn't look at her now, it was too difficult to keep himself from crossing the room to where she stood, arms folded across her chest like she was trying to stop her heart shattering. She was so strong. She didn't beg him to stay, or call him a bastard. She just stood there, stopping tears running down her cheeks, the determination to hide how hurt she truly was radiating from her. He didn't deserve her, he never had. He was a coward, too weak to say no to his father, too scared to run away and stop fighting because he didn't want to die. He turned and walked towards the door, his hand was about to pull it open when she called his name through the silence, bringing him to an immediate halt.  
"Did you lie? When you told me that you loved me" her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper as though she couldn't bear to hear the answer to the only question she had asked him all night. The silence was overwhelming as he battled with himself. He almost turned to her, desperate to see her eyes just one last time. Everything within him was screaming at him to tell her the truth, to give her one last hope. To allow himself to believe that when all this was over he could find her and they could be happy.  
"Yes." he didn't even turn around to look at her as he answered. His voice clear and steady as though he had never been surer of anything before. He was always a good actor. With that he left the room. Left her behind him before his resolve collapsed and he couldn't. All he could do was hope that he would never see her again.

7 months later…

Snatchers burst into the house, dragging _her _with them. For one mad moment he was relieved to see her, happy that she was alive, happy that she hadn't been subjected to the 'questioning' provided by Umbridge. Then he saw _them._ Potter and Weasley. His father told him to identify Potter through his swollen face. He knew that if he did she would die. He knew that if he didn't he would.  
"I can't be sure" he answered in a quiet tone, his father pushing for answers based on who Potter brought with him, cursing their stupidity for bringing her with them, putting her in such undeniable danger. Almost screaming when Potter and Weasley both looked at him with confusion and gratitude in their eyes and she tore her gaze away from his and stared at the floor. He didn't want their gratitude. He wasn't doing any of this for them. He just wanted her to look at him.

He nearly vomited when his Aunt told Greyback to take Potter and Weasley to the cellar and leave her there. He knew what was coming, he had to stay there or his father would know he had lied when he said it was lust and nothing more. Lucius was a man of his word. He would kill her. At least Bellatrix may leave her alive. A stab of jealousy went through him as Weasley begged to be kept instead. The thought of her with him was just too much to bear. He was grateful when Bellatrix told him to get the goblin, it gave him a chance to act.  
"Dobby?" his tone was questioning and hopeful, he didn't even know if his old house elf would know he had said his name, let alone come. The loud crack that filled the hallway was enough to keep him steady as another scream ripped through the house.  
"Get them out of here. All of them. Don't tell them who sent you. Please, just save her".

The battle came and he behaved like he was expected to. Like a coward. He tried to justify to himself that his only chance to save her meant keeping himself alive. He was always best at lying to himself. He had half expected to die in the room of requirement, in the same fire that killed Crabbe.  
"Harry! We can't just leave them to die!" her voice was all that kept him going. The fact that she had risked herself to save him let him know that even though he had broken her. Even though he had stood back and watched her be tortured. She cared. On some level, deep down, she still cared.

He didn't see her again for another nineteen years. She was married to Weasley and he couldn't bring himself to hate the redhead for having everything he had ever wanted because the smile in her eyes told him she was happy. His son had given him hope. Through him he had learned to love again, he even held some affection for his wife, of course carefully selected by his mother. He hoped that Scorpius would be able to change the hatred that came with the Malfoy name. He hoped that he could erase some of the mistakes he had made. His wish was granted when Scorpius Malfoy was sorted into Gryffindor and fell in love with her daughter.

He had been right all along. Hermione Granger was his salvation.


End file.
